


The Other Side: Part Seventeen

by PiscesPenName



Series: The Other Side Series [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Couch Cuddles, Couch Sex, F/M, Sweet Dean Winchester, Sweet/Hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 00:29:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12222054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PiscesPenName/pseuds/PiscesPenName
Summary: More Dean and Carrie. A little bit of fluffy before I throw them back into angst.





	The Other Side: Part Seventeen

 

 

Dean polished off the rest of the midnight breakfast Carrie had made him. His face with that sweet smile looking over the rim of his coffee mug made her heart flutter. For just a moment, Dean Winchester looked positively... DOMESTIC.

 

 

_Maybe he could have been this in another life,_ she thought. "You put away a ton of food for someone so fit," is what she told him. 

 

He smiled, slapped his stomach. "I need fuel."

 

She gave him an affectionate smile and walked over to run her hand through his short bristled hair. She rubbed his scalp a little and he seemed to cant his head into the touch. Something about Dean always seemed so touch-starved to her, almost needy for affection. She wondered if it had anything to do with losing his mother so early. 

 

He pulled her down into his lap and she leaned her body against his, ground her ass into his lap a little. 

 

He snorted. "Bad girl." 

 

She leaned over and kissed the bridge of his nose chastely. "Am I bad or am I good?"

 

"Mmmm. Both. So what's been going on with you, sweetheart?"

 

She turned around to straddle him and put her arms on his shoulders. He smirked and leaned back against the chair, stretched out lazily underneath her like a big cat. 

 

"Same old. Same old. Working. Waiting for my booty call to come back."

 

He grinned. "I'm your booty call, huh?"

 

"Hell yes. I just use you for your body."

 

He gave her a playful smirk. "Is that so?"

 

"Yes." 

 

His smirk turned into a grin, flashing his beautiful teeth. "Maybe I don't mind."

 

"You'd better not."

 

He snorted. "I kinda like this version of you. She knows what she wants. She should come out and play more often." 

 

"What about the other side?"

 

"Which one?"

 

"The one I show you the most." Carrie searched his face.

 

"She's okay," he replied, wrinkling his nose a little. 

 

Carrie couldn't conceal her hurt, even though she could tell it was a jest. She didn't say anything for a moment and 

Dean feathered his fingers through her hair. "Don't look at me like that. If she's the one you show me most often and I keep coming back here, you do the math."

 

"I know."

 

She leaned in for a kiss and let it linger for a moment. His lips yielded under hers, soft and warm and reassuring. She set her cheek beside his, could feel just the very beginning of stubble starting there. 

 

"You kiss the best out of any chick I've been with." He observed quietly.  

 

She blinked, entirely taken aback. "I do?"

 

"Mmmhmmm." He hummed, long lashes framing his eyes as he looked at her. 

 

"But I don't..." Carrie paused, looking for the words. "Even _know_ what I'm doing."

 

"Girls I hook up with are all so practiced. It's like they think they patented a freaking technique. But yours is real."

 

She laid her head against his neck. She could watch the blood thrumming through the artery just under his skin. "You're so good at everything," she told him. 

 

He ran his hand up her arms. "Lotsa practice but I try new stuff with you. The way I have to move in you is... different."

 

"Yeah?" She asked, a little intrigued. "How gentle you have to be?"

 

"That and..." he paused, searching for wording. "I dunno. The movement is different."

 

She lifted her head to look at him. "It is?" Carrie was completely interested now. "How?" 

 

"You want me to print a manual?" He joked. "It's just different."

 

She gave him a little pout. 

 

She saw him roll his eyes and then soften to it. "Look. You're ...tighter. I mean even I can feel it...and if I use thrusts it hurts you." He watched her expression. "so it's... like I move smaller and press in steadily." 

 

"Do you like it?"

 

He thought about it. "Makes me slow down and focus. Feels different. Like marinating in you."

 

"That's a revolting image." 

 

Dean shrugged. "Hey, you asked me." 

 

"I'm kidding." She put her arms around his neck again and lay her head on his shoulder. "I like you inside me. Warm and full. It feels nice." 

 

She could feel his arousal start to Rev up with the image. God he was easy to turn on. 

 

"Yeah?" He asked with interest. 

 

"Yes." She squeezed her thighs around him. 

 

He grinned at her. "You were a nice girl and I made you into a bad one." 

 

"I'm still a nice girl."

 

He kissed the side of her neck and she let her head drop back, still holding onto his shoulders. Having him under her on the chair was a nice feeling. The chair and his lap holding her legs open, her upper body close to Dean. She inhaled his scent and wrapped her arms around him, feeling cozy and lazy and sated. He smiled at her and picked her up under both her thighs as he stood.

 

"Hey." She wrapped her legs around him. "Where are we going?"

 

He carried her to her living room and flopped her down upon the couch. Then snuggled behind her. "M tired."

 

"I have a whole bed," she said.

 

"Yeah but then I don't get to be wedged up against you." 

 

He felt good behind her, herself wrapped in his arms. She gently toyed with his hand, stroking it, moving up his wrists under the edge of his shirt sleeves. He hummed in his content way, lazily. Almost decadent. 

 

"And a couch feels so..." he paused, his warm breath in her ear. 

 

"So what?"

 

He twined his fingers in with hers. "Homey? I dunno."

 

"Well so does a bed." She replied moving a leg back to tangle with his.

 

"Motels have beds..." he said. And she understood the subtext. Motels didn't have couches. Places of impermanence didn't have long comfy sectionals. The couch made him feel safe and relaxed. 

 

His hand let hers go and slid under her night shirt, gently rubbed up and down her back. 

 

"Lots of things to do on couches," he said. 

 

"Oh really?"

 

"Yeah."

 

Dean nudged her. "Hey. Turn on somethin," he suggested. 

 

Carrie untangled herself to reach for the remote. Dean was still busy caressing between her shoulder blades. 

 

She flicked on the flat screen and left it playing. It seemed like back ground noise when she had Dean's hands distracting her. 

 

"This isn't watching TV."

 

"Kinda is," He whispered. "Can't help it if you're way cooler than what's on."

 

She reached behind herself and grabbed him through his jeans. He jerked and chuckled.

 

His hands left her back and he pulled her snug to him. "You feel really good," he said.

 

"Could you ever see yourself here if circumstances were different?" Carrie asked, staring at the TV. 

 

There was a long pause from Dean. "I'm here now," he said. 

 

"You know what I mean."

 

"Things are what they are so what's the point of guessing?" 

 

She shrugged. 

 

"Don't get all emotional on me now." He leaned over to look at her. 

 

"I'm not but even if I was...it's not the end of the world you know." She turned to look at him. "I'm a girl. Women have feelings." 

 

He let out a derisive snort. "Women have _hormones_."

 

"So do men. Picture if you were a woman. You think you'd have the same drive to kill if you were a girl?" 

 

Dean's eyebrow raised. "Okay quit giving me creepy images."

 

She laughed. "I'm just saying you guys have mood swings too."

 

"Sam does. He's a bitch." Dean said lightly. 

 

She curled against his chest. "God, I love your smell."

 

"Okay. Creepy again. You're on a roll tonight."

 

She smacked his chest half-heartedly. 

 

"What? It is. _I love your smell._ " He repeated in a distorted parody of her voice.

 

"Well if you say it like a fucking serial killer it's creepy," she laughed. 

 

"If I were a woman I would play with my boobs, a lot."

 

Carrie barked out a startled laugh. "Now who is creepy?"

 

He nuzzled her hairline and she loved it. "There's so many things I want to do to you..."

 

"Like what?"

 

He gave a roll of his hips into her.  "Wanna bend you over this couch." 

 

Her stomach fluttered at the suggestion. "I'm game for that."

 

He slid his hand up under her long sleepshirt until he found her breast and rested his warm palm there. 

 

She hummed. 

 

Dean blinked a couple of times and leaned his forehead against hers before tucking his chin on the top of her head. His hand slid around to her back and pulled her close and before Carrie could even register it he'd slipped into a light doze. 

 

She lay watching the beauty of his face as he slept.

 

He wasn't out for too long. Probably an hour. Carrie rolled so that he was behind her and flipped through the television to find something to watch. 

 

She didn't know he had awakened until she felt a hand caress her bare thigh just below her night shirt. She let him slide his palm up and down the curve, feeling her body start to respond to him already. Dean had her trained somehow to melt to him. 

 

She was like a cello that he drew a bow over, and when he did, she sang. 

 

"Hey..." he growled. 

 

"Hey." She responded. 

 

She felt him nudge her, reposition himself, and then his arms were around her and he was picking her up with him as he rose up to sit. She went with him, despite the surprise and scooted momentarily on his lap, but then he stood up, still holding her under her arms. His grip tight around her ribcage. She found her feet.

 

"Dean, what are we doing?" She asked. 

 

He answered by nudging her ahead of him and around to the arm of the couch and then kissing her ear. Her heart was pounding. 

 

"You are so gorgeous," he muttered to her, his hands suddenly sliding under her oversized night shirt to cup her breasts. 

 

She moaned. 

 

"Feel good?" He asked.

 

"Yeah," she said, shifting under his caress. 

 

"Wanna try somethin new?"

 

"What?" She asked. 

 

Dean lifted her shirt over her head and tossed it to the side. It landed on the TV. She laughed, crossing her arms in front of her, her tumble of blonde hair cascading down her shoulders. 

 

She felt Dean's hand on her lumbar curve, he dragged it up a little and then gave her a gentle push to bend her over. Carrie put her hands out to catch herself on the cushions, her pelvis over the arm of the couch. Dean kept his hand there another moment before he dragged off her panties and she stepped out of them. 

 

He splayed his hand across her shoulder blades. "You okay with this, sweetheart? Don't wanna scare ya." 

 

"I'm okay." 

 

Carrie heard the clink of Dean's belt and the rustle of denim as he dropped his pants behind her. She felt her heart rate pick up. 

 

And then he was curved over her, bent down with his chest to her back and his lips on her ear. She shuddered. His hands rubbed her shoulders and then slid to her breasts. 

 

He nudged his erection against her. She gasped. He wedged a knee between her thighs and opened her legs up and then he was using one hand to guide himself in and the other to push her down into the couch farther for a better angle of entry. 

 

She felt a brief wave of excited panic and then that familiar pain. 

 

She tensed. "Dean." 

 

He froze where he was. "It's okay, sweetheart. Lift your hips up a little more." 

 

She rose onto her toes, felt Dean shift to get himself lower and then he slid into her. He was warm and solid and the pressure of him filling her felt so good. 

 

He took hold of her hips and started to work himself in and out and Carrie turned her head and laid her cheek against the couch cushion as he thrust into her in controlled little motions. 

 

He picked up speed and hit into her harder and Carrie cried out, hearing Dean join her with a grunt of exertion. 

 

It felt good but then she tensed and gripped the couch as it felt like he was going too deep. "Dean..."

 

He stilled his movements and ran his hand over her back. "Tell me what you need."

 

"Wait."

 

He remained where he was and she could feel a little tremble run through him. 

 

"Be gentle." She whispered. 

 

He was. He slowed his movements, made his thrusts shallow. 

 

Carrie felt the warmth of him buried in her, it started to build and she could feel her body tense. He reached around front and stroked her clitoris with feather light touches as he pumped into her. 

 

She began to feel that familiar build of heat and tension and she pushed back into him, he slowed himself and let her guide the movements. 

 

He groaned deeply as she did the work and then started back up again until Carrie cried out and her body contracted around him. 

 

Dean kept up his pace while she was climaxing and she felt him buck hard a few times before he went quiet and his hands squeezed her hips with adrenaline strength. 

 

He came down after a moment, panting with her.

 

"Okay," he pulled out of her and she straightened up, feeling weirdly empty without him in her. Her legs felt like buckling. 

 

He caught her under the arms before she went down and set her back on her feet. "Easy sweetheart."

 

She turned around and there was a smile on his face and a glint in his green eyes, his crinkles pronounced around them. "Kinda hot to make you not able to stand afterward," he said. 

 

She slapped his chest. He smiled broader and pulled her close to him. 

 

And that's where she wanted to stay, in Dean's arms.

 

Forever.  


End file.
